I went down to see my parents in San Diego last weekend, where I did what I always do when I'm down there: shop with my mother, watch HGTV with my father, and eat as much food as is humanly possible. For some people, a week in Maui is what it takes to push the re-set button. For me, it's a weekend at home.

In the early summer of 1994, when I was just fourteen, my friend Caroline gave me a mix tape to listen to one night. Actually, side A was a mix, but side B was an album she'd recorded from someone else, just something to fill in the blank space. I took that tape into my tiny boarding school dormitory, fed it into my walkman, and listened to it through my headphones in the dark. I don't even remember what was on side A now, but side B mesmerized me like a magic trick.

About a month ago, Sean decided to grow a beard. I don't know why, exactly: maybe because it was winter and it seemed a manly thing to do---Man freezing! Man grow hair! Scarf for little girl, man say!---or perhaps it was a daring sociological expose into the general public's reaction to hirsuteness, who knows? Maybe he just got lazy and decided he was going to stop shaving. (More than likely that last one.)

I like to wear clothes. This is no secret. I also like to buy clothes and, in addition to buying clothes, I also like to talk about clothes. I'm hoping that you like to talk about clothes too, and if you don't like to talk about clothes, well, that's cool, you can feel free to sit this one out if you want and I'll come get you when my husband is doing another mustachioed photo shoot or I remember yet another thing I still wanted to tell you about my wedding.

One of the things I wasn't expecting about marriage is how soon afterwards you start thinking about having kids. I'm sure it's not this way for everyone, of course---plenty of people have kids without being married, plenty of people get married and don't want kids---but for me, at least, it's been something of an eye-opener. And when I say it's been something of an eye-opener, I want you to imagine someone dropping a bucketful of ice down the back of my shirt just as I'm starting to fall asleep. That kind of eye opener.

I'm leaving for vacation on Friday night, where I will spend a week in London seeing family and friends, plus two days in Paris eating my weight in bread and cheese. You might think I'm joking about that second part, but I have spent the last ten days abstaining from both so that when I fall off the wagon in Paris---and I will inevitably fall off the wagon in Paris, I mean come on: it's Paris---the transgression will be that much sweeter. Hey, if you're going to fail, might as well fail big, right? Baguettes, I'm coming for you first!